


Alone Together

by best_in_red



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not entirely sure where this is going, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, but that stuff might be in it, i'm not using archive warnings because i don't want to spoil, minor Hawke/Fenris, please ask if you're sensitive to anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/best_in_red/pseuds/best_in_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither would admit it outright, but the mage and the elf are mirror images of each. Both Fenris and Anders are broken, yet both are so convincing at hiding it, they never see the pain of the other. What they interpret as hate, and respond with in kind, is simply a defense mechanism from years of abuse. They both had years of being told and being made to feel that they were wrong. And now, with freedom just within their reach, yet constantly threatened, the two men try to anchor themselves in their lives, and it just so happens to be to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

Anders had just finished closing up the clinic for the night, when he heard a knock at the door. He looked up to see who was here so late at night, and was surprised to see Hawke standing at the door. 

“Can I come in?” she asked quietly. Anders nodded, and it wasn’t until she came closer that he realized she had been crying.

“Hawke, what’s going on, is everything alright?” he asked worriedly as she approached him.

She sighed and sat down on one of the cots. “Fenris rejected me,” she admitted.

Anders eyes widened. He remembered Hawke whispering to Fenris after the last fight and them talking about meeting at Danarius’s old mansion, but he hadn’t connected the pieces. Hawke had been flirting with everyone, but, if Anders thought about it, her attention had focused on Fenris. He supposed there were some people who liked the sullen, broody type. But it had clearly gone poorly.

“I didn’t know you felt about him like that,” Anders admitted, as he sat down next to Hawke. “But then again, I’m pretty terrible at telling how people feel.” 

Hawke chuckled. “You can be as clueless as a nug sometimes.”

 “Hey now,” Anders pulled his hand back from her shoulder and pretended to look offended. “I think I deserve more credit than the common nug.”

They both laughed, but Hawke’s face quickly fell again. 

“Can I ask what happened?” Anders asked.

Hawke nodded. “Well, we met up at Danarius’s mansion afterwards to talk about everything that had happened, and, I thought things were going well. We kissed and then his lyrium flared and he bolted. He said he couldn’t do it anymore. I tried to follow him, but he was gone before I could say a word.”

Anders sighed. Just like the elf to run away from any sort of emotional commitment. Usually it wouldn’t bother him too much, but hurting Hawke, that was a step too far.

“I’m sorry, that blasted elf has no idea what he’s missing out on,” Anders said, in what he hoped was a comforting voice.

“I know, right,” Hawke gestured to herself. “Anyone in this town would be lucky to have me.” She looked down at her feet. “I supposed I understand where he is coming from. He’s going through so much right now. I honestly don’t know how he trusts people at all. I probably shouldn’t have made the move so quickly after what has just happened.” She shook her head. “I’m just too impulsive, and that’s not what Fenris needs.”

Anders suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. That elf could get away with anything, even breaking the heart of one of the most influential people in Kirkwall. He stopped himself from saying anything about it. Hawke didn’t need to hear this right now.

Instead he nodded once more.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find someone who fits you,” he reassured her.

Hawke nodded. “I’ve noticed Isabella looking at me lately, though, she looks at almost everybody.” 

This time, Anders did not suppress the eye roll. “Hawke, I am not going to tell you who to pursue, but please, do me a favor.” 

Hawke looked at him questioningly.

“Make sure you come to me the moment there is even the hint of an itch.”

Hawke laughed. “Thank you Anders, it’s good to know that you have my back.” She yawned. “I really should be getting home. My mother will be worried.” She and Anders stood, then suddenly, she embraced him

“Thank you, friend” she mumbled into his shoulder. Then she pulled away awkwardly and hurried out of the clinic with a swift wave goodbye.

Anders watched her go. He hoped Hawke the best of luck. He was glad to have such a woman in his life as a friend. He knew her sadness tonight was passing, after all a simple talk had cheered her up. And as much as he wanted his distaste for Fenris to grow, he could not help but to begin to pity the elf, as the words Hawke had spoken resounded in his head.

_I honestly don’t know how he trusts people at all._

When he first escaped the Circle for good, Anders had a lot a trouble with trust as well. He never knew who would help or hurt him. Hawke had been able to bring out the best in him, and teach him that friends didn’t have to die or betray you. To not trust Hawke, after everything she had done, seemed almost impossible to Anders. How lonely Fenris had to be, living in that decrepit mansion, fearing every day of freedom was his last. It didn't matter if Danarius never came for him, if Fenris could not learn to trust, then he could never truly be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in just under a week, I made the descent into the hole that is Fenders (Anris?, Fanders?) shipping, and I just had to get this out. Also, I have a slew of unpublished fanfiction that I sit down and write like 5,000 words for, then lose all motivation for because I don't post it. That's why this may be a bit unpolished. I may go back and rewrite some earlier chapters if I get this story underway, so keep that in mind as well, and please tell me if there are any glaringly obvious mistakes. Also, this is my first published work in about 5 years, so please, be gentle. But also, don't hold anything back. Also, I'm not totally following game lore (though I will be trying to stick to it as close as possible)
> 
> Anyway, if you made it this far, thanks for reading, and I promise I'll try to do regular updates, but I am a full-time college student so we shall see where life takes us.
> 
> (Side note: The Hawke/Fenris stuff is really mostly me fantasizing because I couldn't get him on my first run through. It also illustrates how improbable it is that one person could romance such different people. But that's just my thinking)


	2. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so our story begins.

It had been almost a month since Hawke’s teary night at the clinic. About a week after it, Anders saw a noticeable shift in the way that Hawke carried herself around Isabella, and realized that she must have stayed true to her word and seduced the rogue pirate. And Isabella, strangely enough, seemed less flirty with every attractive being that walked by.

The first time Anders saw Fenris and Hawke interact after that night he was surprised by their exchanges. Aside from Fenris’ initial uneasiness when they first talked, both seemed as though they were back on normal terms. Anders could clearly tell that Fenris was confused by Hawke’s seemingly instant forgiveness as she bantered with him as she had done before.

Anders, on the other hand, could not bring himself to forgive the elf so easily. Despite the fact that he had pitied the elf that first night, he could not let go of the fact that he had hurt his dear friend Hawke. He desperately wanted to say something, but Hawke was always in earshot, and bringing it up would only hurt her more. And it wasn’t like Fenris was going to stop by the clinic any time soon, and Anders sure as hell wasn’t going to go to that corpse-infested mansion. At least that’s what he told himself. 

He knew that he should have been over it by now, but Fenris had been particularly cruel during their last fight. He had snapped at Merrill, and while Anders didn’t entirely support her blood magic practices, she was one of the sweetest people he had ever met. Even Hawke had admonished Fenris, but the warrior kept his mouth shut and stormed off, back to his mansion without taking any of the loot.

Anders could handle the biting comments, the insults about mages, but he just couldn’t stand by after the way Fenris was acting towards the mage’s friends. They were Fenris’ friends too, though he doubted the elf would admit it. 

That night, Anders closed the clinic early so he could make his way across Darktown before the bandit groups started roaming. Dusk was when they liked to hunt.

It was pitch black when Anders finally arrived at the dilapidated mansion. As usual, the door was unlocked, so Anders slipped in without a problem. The smell in the entry way was horrifying, and he quickly moved away from it, but not before casting a nature spell on the bodies that had been laying there, causing them to decompose almost instantly and each turn into a bed of flowers. Merrill had taught him that trick, though he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. Half of the flowers were dead. Still, better than rotting corpses.

Anders was just entering the main hall when a dark figure wielding an enormous sword darted out of the shadows and pinned him against the wall.

“What gives you the right to use magic in _my_ home,” Fenris growled at Anders. The lyrium brands burned brightly on his skin. Fenris clearly sensed the spell the second Anders cast it. Of course, he should have thought of that.

“Calm down there,” Anders answered defensively. “I was just getting rid of the bodies for you.”

“I do not need your help, Mage,” Fenris had always made that word sound like the worst possible atrocity, but today, somehow, it seemed to have even more anger behind it. He did, however, step back and let Anders breathe.

“Alright, alright,” Anders grumbled. “I wasn’t here to help you anyways.”

“I did not expect you to be here at all,” Fenris replied, sheathing his sword and walking towards his bedroom, where a large fire was roaring. “Why are you wasting my time?”

Anders followed the elven warrior. “Look, Fenris, I’m here to talk to you about how you’ve been treating some of the people lately. I get that you’re prickly, it’s part of your personality, but you need to know when you’ve gone too far. Look, I know you don’t like Merrill dealing with blood magic, but the things you say to her.” Anders shook his head. “I can take it, but I don’t think she can. Or at least she shouldn’t. And don’t even get me started on Hawke.”

“No please,” Fenris stood across from Anders, looking guarded. “Tell me about Hawke.” The fire reflected off his features, casting sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more menacing than usual.

“I know you rejected her, Fenris.” The elf’s eyes widened slightly at this statement, but Anders ignored it and kept talking. “And I know she’s over it now, but I know the type of person you are, and I know you wouldn’t apologize. You’re lucky, Fenris. You have friends. People who like and care for you. Don’t throw that away because you can’t learn to trust. And stop hurting them. I don’t care if it’s a defense or anything like that. They are my friends too, and I won’t let you keep doing this to them.”

Fenris seemed shaken by what Anders had said, though he quickly steeled himself and pulled the look of derision he normally wore around the mage.

“I do not need your advice, _abomination_ ,” he emphasized the last word. “I will do with my life what I wish. And I would like to you see try to stop me."

Anders was just about to come up with a retort when suddenly he heard a cough behind him. Both he and Fenris turned to see Hawke leaning against the doorway.

“Am I, interrupting?” she asked coyly. 

“The mage was just leaving,” Fenris responded instantly.

Anders shot Fenris a death glare before storming out of the mansion. He could barely contain himself. He knew that if Hawke had not arrived, it could have turned into a full blown fight that would have ended with both of them seriously hurt.

“So, what was that about?” Hawke strode into the room confidently.

“The mage and I were disagreeing, as usual.” Fenris replied, still slightly fuming. “It is of no importance. He will never change his ways, and I will never change mine.”

Hawke chuckled, and Fenris looked at her, with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you find something amusing?” He asked. 

“It’s just…I don’t know how you don’t hear it. You must tune him out most of the time to not realize it.”

“Hawke, I’m assuming you are talking about the Mage, if so, do not play games with me and simply tell me why you are so amused.”

“It’s nothing,” Hawke shrugged seeming to want to drop, but the killer look Fenris gave her made her rethink that. “It’s just that, you and him, you’re so alike.”

 Fenris clenched and spoke through his teeth. “If you are still referring to the mage and I, you should rethink those words.”

Hawke put up her hands in defense. “I’m just saying what everyone is thinking. You may not like to think about it, but both you and Anders believe strongly in freedom, though for entirely different groups, though mages in the circle could be considered slaves to an extent. You both believe in justice, and to be honest, you both are very vocal in your opinions. And you…” she trailed off, but Fenris knew what she was about to say. _You two are also victims of terrible trauma._ He tried not to let his emotions overcome him, but from the look of Hawke’s face, he knew that she knew what he was thinking about.

“Regardless,” Fenris said dismissively. “I do not practice an art that turns hundreds into murderous abominations. Our similarities are superficial. I would appreciate if you did not bring this up again, Hawke.”

She sighed and nodded. “Ok, but give it some thought. It would really help the whole group if you guys could learn to get along better. And I think part of that is realizing your differences aren’t so large after all.”

Both of them sat by the fire in silence for a few minutes after that statement, before Fenris spoke up.

“Hawke, can I ask you something rather personal,” he seemed very hesitant.

“Sure,” Hawke looked up from her hands. 

“I…rejected you a month ago, and I know I hurt you. Yet you dealt with it surprisingly well. I am not saying that I am disappointed that you were not heart broken, but I know that I hurt you, and I never offered an apology for it. That was wrong of me, yet you forgave me almost instantly.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?”

Fenris sighed. “Yes Hawke, I wish to know how you overcame your feelings so quickly. You have always been so quick to forgive, it never ceases to amaze me."

“I mean, it wasn’t easy,” Hawke. “I had a bit of help. From a certain healer mage.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows in surprise. That explained how Anders knew about him and Hawke. “I did not know you two were like...that.” 

“Oh no,” Hawke shook her head quickly. “I know I flirt with everyone, but we really are only friends. He was just a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen too.”

“I don’t expect he was very favorable towards me,” Fenris could just imagine the slander.  

“Actually, he held it back pretty well. Gave the classic ‘he doesn’t deserve you anyway spiel’ you give anyone who has had their heart broken, but that’s about it. I guess once I started to see why you did what you did, he wanted to let me have my revelation.”

“And pray tell, what was your revelation?” Fenris asked. His curiosity was peaked.

“Well,” Hawke began. “I guess I just realized that we just don’t mesh, together. I mean, I consider us great friends, but I realized I am not what you need, and you are not what I need. I want to be there for you, Fenris, in every way possible, but I guess we just weren’t right for each other, in that way.”

Fenris didn’t know what to say for the next few minutes, so they both just sat in silence.

“I was relieved, that you wished to continue friendship after what I had done,” he admitted.

Hawke smiled. “Come on, Fenris, you didn’t think I was going to let a little rejection ruin all this,” she gestured between them. “You may not believe it, but I do really enjoy talking to you. Besides, how can two people as good looking as us not be friends?”

Fenris let out a dry chuckle. “I guess I see your point, Champion.”

Hawke yawned. “You know, I really think I should be going. Those Hightown bandits have nothing on me, but I just sharpened by sword and I don’t want its new blood to be some back alley mercenaries.”

“Be safe, Hawke,” Fenris stood with her and nodded as she turned to exit the room. As she reached the doorway, she turned back to the elf. “Do me a favor, Fenris.”

“Yes?” he thought he knew where this was going, but he would hear her out anyway. 

“Talk to him, Anders that is. Just once. Without fighting.”

“I will…try,” he agreed reluctantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for leaving kudos on my prologue. I wrote like 5,000 words last night, so that's why I'm updating so quickly. Also it's the last day of the weekend. I might polish up a couple of chapters and put them up over the course of the week, but I make no promises. And after this I don't know how frequent my updates will be. I have a storyline, I just need to find the time and motivation. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. More coming soon, hopefully!


	3. Deliberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to admit when you're wrong.

Chapter 2 

Fenris thought about what Hawke said for a while. It pained him to agree with the Champion, but when it was all laid out like that it was hard to disagree. There were some _similarities,_ between him and the mage. But that did not mean that he was anything like that _Abomination_. Even thinking that word made Fenris feel, what was it? Guilt? As though the mage did not really deserve that title to be thrown at him so derisively.

Damn that mage, why did he have to go and get compassionate? Fenris had known about the clinic, that he healed the poor of Darktown, but he never really spent much time there. He convinced himself that Anders, like all mages, had an ulterior motive for doing so, and one that was not favorable to anyone who was not a mage.

But seeing Anders here tonight, that had changed something. The man had ventured out of the Darktown alleys all the way to Hightown, to be verbally abused. He couldn’t have expected anything less from an elf that had made his murderous intentions clear time and time again. And they both knew that in any fight, it would have been over before it started. Anders was a powerful mage, with a demon residing inside yes, but Fenris had killed demons time and time again, and a single foe combat would have been easy. Yet Anders was willing to risk injury, risk his life, to speak up for the honor of his friends. Something Fenris thought was never possible of a mage. And to gain what? There certainly would be no reward. Anders was not the type to brag, they would never find out. What could he have possibly wanted from this?

Fenris clenched one fist and gripped a half full wine bottle in another as he began pacing in front of the fire. All of these confusing feelings were welling up inside of him. For the first time, he felt like he should _apologize_ to Anders for, well, pretty much everything he had said. After all, the mage had been right. Fenris’ treatment of his comrades was deplorable. Normally Fenris would just think that to himself and never give Anders the satisfaction of knowing he had changed the elf’s mind, but tonight, he could not get these thoughts out of his head. He took another swig of the wine, then threw the empty bottle to the ground. It couldn’t wait, or else Fenris would lose his nerve. And the longer he waited, the harder it would get.

He wanted to shout in frustration, but he settled for a loudly satisfying door slam as he stormed out of the mansion to follow that stupid, smug, infuriating mage.

 

Of course, the mage had to live in the squalors of Kirkwall. No doubt some sort of self-punishment for all the horrors he had committed. Fenris had to side step several rubbish piles, a few of which had turned out to be actual people who had swiped at him when he got too close. He had nearly run into the tail end of the ambush, but he paused at a corner of a house when he heard the voices. He watched from the shadows as bandits picked the body of an unfortunate soul who had decided to wander the streets so late at night. It crossed the elf’s mind for a moment, that the body might have been the very mage that he was looking for, but the jet black hair reassured him that it was not. He pushed aside that twinge of fear of what had befallen Anders. He didn’t care after all. Maybe it would have been better if the mage was killed in some sort of scuffle. Then, Fenris would not have to apologize and Hawke would stop bothering him about “getting along” with the other members of the party, considering most of his antagonism came chiefly due to the mage. And the world would be free of another mage, without Fenris having to do anything. But it was strange. The satisfaction from thinking of harm befalling the mage had faded, just a little, and was replaced with something that did not feel quite so good.

 _No_ , he admonished himself quickly. He would not let thoughts like that overcome him. He may have been going to apologize to the mage, but he would never once admit to feeling anything but contempt and hate for that man. After all, Fenris could never forgive what he was, a mage. And he was not just any mage, but one who had embraced the Fade and allowed a demon enter his body. No matter how much Anders preached about Justice being a righteous spirit that only wanted to see balance in the world, Fenris could not see it as anything but a demon that would bring harm to the people in the living world. And Anders was a fool for thinking any less. 

It took Fenris about twice as long to reach the clinic, as he moved stealthily from shadow to shadow. As he approached the entrance, he tensed up when he noticed the door was ajar, and there was light shining through the doorway. Anders would never leave the door unlocked so late at night He quickly unsheathed his sword, and gently pushed the door open with one hand. The inside of the clinic was pitch black, save for a lone lantern sitting at the other end of the room, on a table next to a cot. The faint illumination that it provided let Fenris see something he did not want to see. The clinic was in utter disarray. Beds were pushed against walls, there was blood on the floor (but no bodies, Fenris noted), wood from crushed crates and desks was scattered. And there was heavy magic in the air. It made Fenris’ lyrium marks itch. But there was also something else. Certain spots in the room had an almost numbing effect on the sense of magic, as though it had been dispelled in that area. As Fenris’ eyes widened in realization, he felt a panic growing in his chest. In that moment, Fenris knew exactly who had come for Anders. The people he had been running from his entire life. Anders had been taken by the Templars.


	4. Resilience

Anders woke in a panic to a bucket of cold water being thrown into his face.   
“Wake up, mage,” a harsh voice commanded him.

 _Oh no,_ was Anders first thought. He knew that voice. _That’s…_

He looked up slowly, and to his horror, his suspicions were confirmed.

The Templar knight Vertilous loomed over him, with a cruel smirk on his face. He tossed the empty bucket aside, and crouched down to Ander’s level. It was only now that Anders realized he was chained to the wall, with his arms being pulled upwards. He had been unconscious on the ground, so they were already beginning to ache.

“How’s my favorite apostate mage?” Vertilious asked derisively. “Or should I say ex-Gray Warden? You’ve abandoned so many positions it’s hard to keep track.”

“What do you want, Vertilious?” Anders spat the question into the templar’s face. “Come to take me back to the Circle? Trying to curry favor with the knight-commander by bringing in an apostate mage?”

Vertilious chuckled. “You think you’re getting off that easy, don’t you, _mage_.”

There it was. That innocent descriptor, made to seem hideous. Fenris thought his quips bothered Anders so much, but the elf didn’t understand. You spend your whole life being beaten into subordination, told you are worthless, that the way you were born is wrong, and names just don’t hurt anymore.

“You’re not taking me back to the Circle,” Anders brow furrowed in confusion. “Then why…” A slow realization of horror dawned on him. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Would you look at that. I guess you can be pretty and smart at the same time. Although are you sure that it’s not a result of that little spirit residing in your body?”

 _How did he know about Justice_? Anders panicked. He hadn’t even thought about Justice this whole time. When he tried to reach for the spirit, to contact it, he couldn’t access anything. It was still there, yes, but trapped and severely weakened.

“There’s no point in trying to talk to him, or whatever you do to communicate with him,” Vertilious stood and walked over to a table that was strewn with various bottles, some full and some empty. As Anders looked around, he realized he was in a large, damp cave. _The Wounded Coast_ , he realized. He would recognize these that smell, the color of the cave walls, anywhere.   
The mage glanced back at the Templar. He had picked up a bottle with a thick black liquid inside. Anders did not like the looks of it.

“This is a little potion I was taught by a poison maker in Ferelden. It’s been banned for years because of the effects it has on the user, but it’s quite an effective way to suppress demons that have possessed mages. It was used by blood mages to keep practicing their magic without turning into those abominations, but it’s also quite useful when you want to keep one of those abominations captive.

He walked towards Anders, who had realized what the Templar was going to do and began to struggle.

“Now, mage, there’s no point in fighting it. You’re restrained, without your demon and without your friends.” He grabbed Anders by the jaw and forced his mouth open so he could pour the concoction down his throat.

Anders gagged as he felt the black liquid travel down his throat, then within seconds, he doubled over in pain. Whatever it was, it sent spikes of fiery pain through every part of his body. He started convulsing as the potion took its effect. He felt Justice rouse for a moment, in what felt like an outburst of pain, and immediately be suppressed. Anders clenched his teeth to prevent himself from screaming, and through the haze of pain, he saw the Templar smile with a sort of sick joy.

“Oh, and did I forget to mention, it’s quite painful for the user. An unintended, but delightful side effect in my opinion,”

Anders sagged against the chains as the pain subsided into an ache. He felt utterly drained. As though he had cast one of his most complicated and taxing spells.

“Why are you doing this,” he muttered weakly. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

“In due time mage, in due time,” the Templar responded. “But we can’t have you die too easily, now can we. I need you to feel pain, to pay for everything you did.”

“What are you talking about?” Anders answered in confusion.

He hadn’t done anything specific to the Templar. In fact, if his recollections of his time in the circle were correct, that Templar had been the main source of Anders’ pain. Yes, the Templars were technically there to keep an eye on the mages and make sure none of them got out of hand, but many of them let the power go to their heads. And Vertilious’ favorite past time had been to kick around Anders, who had been nothing but a scrawny teenager at the time. In fact, the young mage had been a favorite punching back of all the crueler Templars at the circle. It may have had something to do with his biting remarks that encouraged it.

“You are the reason I’m no longer a Templar,” Vertilious eyes narrowed in anger.

“What?” Anders was shocked. He had done nothing.

“The last time you escaped, they blamed me. They said that it had been my duty watch after you, that the destruction you caused in your escape was my fault. They dismissed me from the order, they took away my _lyrium._ ”

So it was about the lyrium. Of course. Anders knew of the Templars’ and their addiction to that volatile substance. He had heard that many a Templar had been driven insane when they were cut off from their supply. A feeling of horror hit Anders. Vertilious was no longer with the Templars. That meant he could do anything he wanted to the mage. He had no code to follow, no superiors to answer to. There was no telling what the ex-Templar would do to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Hawke and the gang arrive in time to save our mage from the evil clutches of the unhinged ex-templar? Will Fenris start coming to some realizations about his feelings for this particular mage? Find out next week in this gripping saga of love, war, and sometimes wine. (In all seriousness, thank you so much for the comments and the kudos. I love seeing that people are liking this, and I promise I will try my best to update as frequently as possible. As always, let me know if there are any inconsistencies, story wise or grammar wise. I'm the only one who proofreads these.)


	5. Impatience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke is informed of Anders' disappearance, and Fenris freaks out a little.

Darktown flashed by Fenris in a blur as he rushed through the alleys with only one thought in mind. Its mazes of alleys did not faze him, and soon he was in Lowtown. As he rushed through the streets, he passed shadows that he recognized as bandits and silent sisters, but he was past them before any of them had the chance to process his presence. When he finally reached the Amell estate, he was out breath and his whole body was shaking, yet he still found the strength to pound on the great oaken door relentlessly, yelling “Hawke” repeatedly, hoping that she would hear him soon.

It seemed like a lifetime before there were a series of clicking noises indicating the turning of the locks, and the door slowly opened. Fenris moved to charge in, but found himself with a sword pointing directly at his heart. It lowered instantly when he made eye contact with the sword-bearer. It was Hawke, clad in a dark green tunic and brown trousers. Fenris’s impromptu visit in the middle of the night had led her to believe that she was receiving dangerous company, but now her eyebrows just furrowed in confusion as she took in the sight of the harried elf warrior in front of her.

“Fenris?” her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” She stepped back to allow the elf to come in, and he stormed past her into the main hall. She followed him quickly, and their footsteps echoed in the quiet hall. Fenris heard shuffling in the adjacent rooms, and he knew he had woken the other inhabitants, but it did not matter.

“Hawke, you have to get the others. There’s no time to waste. He could be dead by now. They took him.” Fenris paced in front of the staircase nervously. His tattoos were itching and he had sick feeling in his stomach. Why didn’t Hawke understand they had to act right away?

Hawke looked alarmed. “Fenris, start from the beginning. Who took who? What’s going on?” She put a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him, but he shrugged off the hand violently. “There’s no time,” he said through gritted teeth, then he took a deep breath. “They have him. Anders.”

“Wait, what, someone took Anders?” Hawke said in alarm. “Isabela, get down here!” she yelled. A few moments later, the door to Hawke’s bedroom opened and the pirate came sleepily down the stairs.

“Who’s come to keep us company this late, love?” she rubbed her eyes tiredly, then the same look of confusion came over her as she saw the agitated elf. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to such a pretty elf,” she smirked, but then when she saw the panic in Fenris’s face, her smile vanished. “What’s happened?”

“Someone took Anders.” Hawke replied.

The sleep vanished from Isabela’s eyes, and she hurried down the stairs to face Fenris. “Wait, what? Who took him?”  
“I was just about to have Fenris tell us. I thought you should be here.”

They both looked expectantly at Fenris.

By this time, the elf had collected himself a little, but he was still agitated. “I went to find Anders in the clinic after you left,” he began. “I arrived and the place was abandoned. There was blood everywhere and I could feel something there. Pockets of anti-magic. There were Templars there, Hawke. They found him and they took him.” 

Both Isabela and Hawke looked at each other. They knew that Anders was on the run, that the Templars were looking for them, but since he had joined the group, they had made every effort to keep him discreet. People had been paid for their silence, rumors had be quashed, and Hawke even made a point of starting a few herself: that the Grey Warden had been spotted in other cities in the Free Marches. Not only that, but with Avelin’s influence, they had managed to get information on what the Templars in Kirkwall knew, regarding Anders. They thought they’d be ready if anyone found out. Apparently they weren’t.

Fenris saw the look without words between the two women. He knew they knew something, but there wasn’t time.

“We have to go now, get the others,” Fenris turned and quickly stared walking towards the exit.

“Fenris, wait,” Hawke spoke authoritatively, and the elf turned on his heel and stood still, looking at her.

“Do you know where they took him?” She asked pointedly.

“No…” Fenris trailed off. “But it does not matter!” He exclaimed. “We cannot let them get away.”

Hawke sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Fenris, we can’t do anything right now. It’s the middle of the night. What do you want me to do? Storm into Knight-Commander Meredith’s chamber and demand that she release the rogue mage that I’ve been harboring from her.”

Fenris looked like he wanted to say something, but Hawke cut him off. “No, I’m not doing that. I may have sway in this town, but that doesn’t make me immune to the Templars. I need at least their grudging respect, and if I go in accusing their leader of taking Anders, that’s two marks I’ll have against me. No,” she shook her head. “The best course of action is to talk to some people, get Anders out quietly.” 

“There must be someone we can talk to?” Fenris shot back. He’d find someone; he’d make them bleed unless they would tell him where Anders was.

Hawke sighed. “We aren’t going to find anyone willing to talk to us at this hour. Going against the Templars is serious business; we have to do this delicately if we want answers. We’ll meet up with everyone tomorrow midmorning in the Hanged Man, and we can decide where to go from there. We aren’t going to abandon Anders, but we all need rest if we are going to do this properly.”

Fenris clenched his jaw, and then turned to leave, but Hawke called after him. “Wait, Fenris. I don’t want you leaving right now. That noise you made out there probably attracted the attention of some people, and I don’t want anyone following you back to the mansion. Stay here.” 

Fenris paused, his hand placed against the doorframe as he pondered Hawke’s statement. She was right, after all, and this way he could make sure that they started looking right away in the morning. He turned to Hawke and gave her a silent nod, before following her as she led him to one of the open bedrooms. It was spacious, and much cleaner than any of the rooms in Danarius’s dilapidated mansion. Fenris took off his sword and hung it on the weapons rack before turning to Hawke.

“I will see you in the morning,” he said. Then paused. “Thank you,” he added grudgingly, nodding towards the bed.

Hawke shrugged and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He did not knock it off this time.

“That’s what friends are for.” She smiled and walked out of the room, back to Isabela, who had already made her way back to the bedroom.

Fenris sighed as he sat on the bed. Hawke was right. He needed to get some sleep before the morning, or he would be in no condition to help look for Anders.

In that moment, Fenris was struck with a sudden realization. He had been so consumed with the panic that he had not remembered whom exactly he had been panicking about. It was Anders, yes, but not just Anders. It was a mage, an abomination. Fenris felt a knot beginning to form in his stomach as he grappled with the thoughts that had just entered his mind. Why had he suddenly felt such concern for the mage’s well being? A month ago he would have gladly let the Templars take Anders back to the Circle, after all, that was where he belonged.

But now, it was as though something had changed. Anders seemed different than the other mages. Certainly, Fenris’s view on magic, and mages in general had not changed but, perhaps, his view on one particular mage had.

He shook his head, as if to clear the intrusive thoughts that had begun to creep in. No, he would not think about Anders in that way. He was exhausted; this was all a product of a sleep-deprived mind. He would go to sleep, and the next morning, these fantasies in his head would be gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the longer update time! I had some personal issues to deal with, and honestly, writing is hard. But I'm going to keep it up, I promise. I'm also thinking of posting a short Fenders drabble regarding card-playing and poker faces, but I don't know if I'm going to make it in line with this storyline or not. Regardless, keep an eye out for it. It's already like a 1000 words. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, and any mistakes that I made! I'm always looking to hear from people who read this stuff!


	6. Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back with Anders, we see more of what Vertilious has in store for him.

Pain. That was all Anders had known since his capture. He couldn’t say how much time had passed. Time was meaningless down here. There was only Vertilious and the pain. Anders knew it must have been at least 2 days, because he knew what it felt like to go without food for that long. But it wasn’t the lack of food that was getting to him as much as the burning thirst was. He hadn’t gotten a single drop since he had been taken. Vertilious, the sadistic bastard, even made a show of pouring a full flask of water onto the dirt in front of Anders, just out of his reach. The only thing that Anders was drinking was that foul potion that kept his powers, and Justice, at bay. And that had to be full of salt or something because all it did was dehydrate him more.

Anders wondered if he was going to die down there. He didn’t want to lose faith in Hawke, the woman had her connections in the city, but he doubted that Vertilious would have announced his presence to the Templars, considering that an exiled Templar could very well be killed on sight. Still, maybe Merrill could use her blood magic to find him. Anders knew it would be a last resort, and that Fenris would not be too happy about it, but he knew Hawke wouldn’t give a damn.

Fenris. That blasted elf was the reason he was in that mess. Sure, Vertilious had gotten the jump on him, but if Anders hadn’t had his mind occupied by that fight they had, then maybe together they would have had a fighting chance. God, that elf was so infuriating. Breaking the heart of a woman that Anders would follow to the ends of the Earth, and acting all high and mighty about his utter disgust for magic. If he could just pretend to have a dash of sympathy for what some mages had gone through. But no. He had to lump them all into one group of evil wrongdoers. Sure, magic could be used for evil, but so could bows and arrows, and swords. And you didn’t see people adept with weapons being torn from their families and everything they knew and loved to be isolated, watched like criminals. Being made Tranquil… Anders had thought that was the last thing Fenris would agree with. The worst type of enslavement, where the person is so controlled they don’t even fight anymore. And they are trapped, forever. A fate worse than death. And yet Fenris had still had the gall to insist that mages deserved that, after Anders’ had had to kill one of the last good friends he had left, rather than let him remain trapped in a Tranquil body for the rest of his life. Anders shook his head as tears began to well up at the memory of Karl, and the frustration that he felt over not being able to rescue him. How could Fenris…? He would never understand the elf. Cold and stoic, yet Hawke seemed to think he was capable of good, of empathy. Well, if that was the case, Anders had never seen it, and he knew he would certainly never be the recipient. It pained him to think that he and Fenris would never be more than hostile towards each other.

Anders’s thought process was interrupted by the sound of approaching heavy footsteps. He instinctively tensed in fear, and raised his head to meet the eyes of his approaching captor. Vertilious looked especially pleased with himself, although his skin was pale, and beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead. The lyrium withdrawal symptoms were still strongly affecting the ex-templar, though Anders could tell he was trying not to let it show.

When Vertilious saw Anders staring at him, he laughed, as he made his way over to the potions table at the right end of the cavern.

“Have you been crying, mage? Scared of your impending death?”

Anders cursed internally. He was giving the man far more satisfaction in this than he had to.

Vertilious shook the flask of black liquid and examined it methodically, before turning and making his way over to Anders, who still shied away from the Templar, as much as his chains would let him.

“Now, don’t cry,” Vertilious gritted his teeth as he grabbed Anders by the jaw and forced the potion down his throat.

 Anders coughed and gagged as the potion renewed the draining effects on him, and gritted his teeth to muffle the groan of pain he could not subdue.

“Just kill me,” he rasped at the knight. “What’s the point of all of this? You’ve had your fun.”

Vertilious shook his head. “You may be right, Anders. Our fun will soon be done, but your life is far from over.”

Anders’ eyes widened. “What does that mean?” he asked, as a growing sense of dread began to fill him. If he wasn’t going to kill the mage, or keep torturing him, what did he had planned? Vertilious certainly wasn’t going to let him go. “What’s going to happen to me?” 

“Well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but let’s just say that I found a pretty good deal for you.” Vertilious pulled out a small wooden box from a satchel he had been holding. Anders could tell immeditately what it was.

The ex-Templar opened it, and inside was a syringe, and a vial of lyrium. He extracted the lyrium from the vial, and held up the full syringe to the torch.

“Where did you get that?” Anders said, dreading the answer.

“Consider it a gift, in good faith, from your new owners.”

Vertilious’s grin grew wider as he watched the look of horror overcome the mage. “I’ve found some very interesting, very well-connected parties who were interested in acquiring a rogue mage such as yourself. It only sweetend the pot when I told them you were an abomination, capable of controlling the demon within you so you appeared normal. They’ve offered me lyrium, enough to last me a long while, in exchange for you, alive, although it doesn’t matter what shape you are in, as long as your heart is still beating.”

Anders could feel his stomach churning. If what Vertilious was saying was true, Anders couldn’t even count on death to release him from this hell.

“And the best part is,” Vertilious continued. “They are taking you on a ship, far away from Kirkwall. Any friends who may be looking for you will soon find that the trail runs cold.” He chuckled cruelly again. “You are alone, Anders.”

_I am alone._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'd like to say sorry for the long wait. I've been doing full-time at school as well as dealing with some personal issues, but don't worry! I haven't forgotten about this! I truly appreciate the feedback I have been getting from you guys! It keeps me writing. Anyways, I'll try to keep updating this fic as regularly as possible, (maybe multiple chapters in the next week to make up for my absence?), but no promises. I'm definitely going to try to see this through the end, but I just want you guys to remember that what keeps me going the most is you guys! Whether it's a kudos, a bookmark or a review, indications that you guys like what I am putting out there really motivates me to do well!


	7. Collaboration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, hope this wasn't too long of a wait. I tend to write them as the mood strikes me. I don't know if I will keep up the format of switching between Anders and Fenris every other chapter, but once I start a habit, I find it hard to break. I'm also thinking of posting chapters that are longer (2,000-3,000 words vs the average 1,200 words I'm posting), but that would probably require me to split the chapters into separate POVs. I honestly don't know what I'll do once things settle down, but one thing's for sure. I will definitely keep updating this fic for as long as I have people reading it.  
> I really appreciate the comments and kudos on this, guys. I try to make a point of responding to everyone's comments, as they really do bring me joy, so if you have anything to say, don't hesitate. But other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Fenris was only able to sleep a few hours that night. His mind was filled with thoughts of Anders, ranging from concern and panic, to hate and disgust. He did not understand the complicated emotions he was feeling for the man, and he certainly did not like them. It was still dark outside when Fenris gave up on any additional sleep and fully dressed himself, sword and all, so he could sit at the foot of the bed and wait for Hawke and Isabella to awaken.

When he finally heard movement in the main hall, he opened in the door and walked out to greet his companions. As he walked towards Hawke and Isabella, he composed himself, and resolved not to let any emotion regarding Anders show.

Hawke and Isabella were talking seriously as Fenris approached them, and they paused when he drew near. Hawke motioned for Fenris to follow them to the front door.

“I’ve already sent out Sandel and his father to gather the rest of our friends. We will be meeting at the Hanged Man, and go from there.” She watched Fenris closely for his reaction as they walked out into the square and began making their way to Lowtown. The light had just began to hit the rooftops, and merchants were unlocking their wares and setting up their booths as the trio walked by them.

“That is the most logical course of action,” Fenris responded stoically, and nodded in Hawke’s direction.

Her and Isabella shared a confused glance between each other, then Hawke pushed again. “So, how did you sleep last night, Fenris? I hope the bed was to your liking.”

“It was acceptable. Thank you for your hospitality, Hawke. I am in your debt.”

Hawke shook her head. “What are friends for? Besides I couldn’t risk one of my best warriors being kidnapped as well. It looks as though some people have it out for my friends.”

Isabella chuckled. “That may have something to do with the fact that half of your friends are fugitives from some person or another. Frankly, I’m surprised more kidnapping attempts haven’t been made.”

“Oh I’m sure there are plenty of warrants out for you, in several kingdoms no less,” Hawke retorted playfully. 

Fenris walked silently by the two women as they continued with their teasing. He understood that this was a coping mechanism for Hawke. The woman had been through so much that humor was the only thing that kept her sane. And Fenris might have joined in. After all, he had been known to engage in a little bit of dark humor, but his thoughts were still occupied with that mage. He knew that he should be feeling satisfaction, maybe a little bit of joy, for the absence of that abomination. Anders was a mage. The thing that Fenris hated the most. And yet, why couldn’t he hate him? He had always thought that hate was the only relationship shared between the two men, but the emotions he was feeling were not felt for someone who you hated. 

The fear, helplessness and rage that had been brewing inside of him were a unique combination of feelings that were unendingly frustrating to Fenris. He hadn't felt this since he was being taken away from his mother and sister to serve Danarius. Fenris had vowed that he would never let himself feel like that again. It was one of the reasons why he had tried to distance himself from Hawke and the others. Yes, he considered them friends, but for the longest time he had tried to only see them as comrades. But he never imagined that Anders would be on the receiving end of this concern. In fact, a younger Fenris would find it unthinkable that he would have anything than utter hatred for a mage. Yet here Fenris was: with a stomach that turned at every thought of Anders coming to harm. It was maddening.

“Fenris?” A familiar voice startled the elf out of his introspective state. He looked up to see Hawke holding the door of the Hanged Man for him and motioning him to come inside. “Everyone’s here.” 

He followed her into the dimly lit tavern which had the usual smell of blood, dirt, booze and sweat hanging in the air.   
“Good to see you, Fenris,” the friendly brunette barmaid winked at Fenris as he passed her by with Hawke. She always made a point of speaking with Fenris when he was at the bar. As Isabel had indelicately put, “Lanky tattooed elves ‘dampened her divine'.” She had already made a pass at Merrill, who had turned bright red and stuttered when Varric explained what had happened. Fenris supposed she was attractive enough, but he did still didn’t have control enough of his lyrium markings to allow another person to touch them. And at this moment, the last thing the elf was in the mood for was flirting.

When Hawke and Fenris arrived at Varric’s room, everyone else was crowding around a a large map and thumbing through piles of papers.

“I say we grab one of those bloody Templars and /make/ them talk,” Varric stabbed a dagger into the wooden table for emphasis.

Aveline shot back. “We can’t just go around kidnapping people. How does that make us any better than the people who took Anders in the first place? And I’m the captain of the guard. I can’t be connected with that. Knight-Commander Meredith would have my head.

“She’s going to have Anders’s head if we don’t do something about it soon, Aveline,” Isabela cut in. “We don’t have time to waste on your petty squabbles about ‘what’s right’ while Anders rots in some hole.” 

Merrill sat at the other end of the table, furiously scouring a book of spells. 

“Everyone, quiet!” Hawke commanded, silencing the trio of bickering companions. “We aren’t going to find Anders if we spend half the time divided amongst each other.” She and Fenris made their way over to the table and sat down. The group looked at Hawke expectantly.

“Fenris,” Hawke said, looking over to the elf at her side. “I need them to know exactly what you saw.”

Fenris cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware of the six pairs of eyes that were on him. “I- was at the mage’s clinic. I needed to, uh, speak with him regarding a concern that I had.” He watched everyone, save Hawke and Isabela, furrow their eyebrows in confusion over the concept of Fenris willingly visiting the mage.

“When I entered his clinic, I could see that something was wrong immediately. There was overturned furniture and spilled healing potions. And with my lyrium markings, I could feel areas that had been completely dispelled of magic. I knew that it had to be the work of Templars. Then, I came to Hawke. That is all I know.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms in a defensive position. He could tell that they all had questions, unrelated to finding Anders, and ones that he would not like to answer. Thankfully, before the discomfort could grow, Hawke cut in. 

“I’m going to send Merrill to the clinic with you, Fenris,” she said authoritatively. “To see if she can sense anything else. And I need you to protect her. If there are Templars picking off mages, we don’t want them to get another one of ours.” Fenris started to protest but Hawke shook her head. “It’s non-negotiable, Fenris. You’re the only who can do it.” She turned to Aveline. “I need you to ask around in the guard. Make it subtle, we don’t want to tip off whoever has Anders. It might be Templars, but it might also be someone else. Varric. I need you to use your contacts in the Hanged Man, and around the city, to find anyone who may have seen what happened. I know people don’t like to talk about what happens in Darktown. Make them talk.” Varric nodded.  
“Isabela,” Hawke looked at the pirate captain, who smiled at her sweetly. “I need you to get in touch with any smugglers you may know. Ask if anyone’s looking to ship out something roughly human sized. If they get Anders out of Kirkwall, we’re done for it. Also, keep an ear out for any mercenaries being hired. It can’t be easy keeping someone like Anders contained.”

“Anything for you, my sweet,” Isebala winked at Hawke, who couldn’t help but give her a small half-smile in return.

“And what will our fearless leader be doing while her minions scurry around doing her bidding?” Varric spoke up.   
“I have my own connections, Varric,” Hawke replied. “I’ll be following up on them, and keeping all of you informed about what the others find. We can’t risk sending messages, as messengers can too easily be bought or killed. Does everyone understand what we’re doing?” Everyone, including Fenris, nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good,” Hawke smiled and stood. “I know we might not all agree with Anders, and some of the things he says or does, but he’s our friend. He’s helped us, and he’s helped the people of Darktown, for years, and now he needs us. Let’s not let him down.” 

Fenris didn't understand why, but he found himself oddly comforted by Hawke’s words. He knew the rest of the companions would do their best to find Anders, just as he knew they would for him. And if these people cared so deeply for this mage, maybe he wasn’t quite the abomination that Fenris had made him out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> So, in just under a week, I made the descent into the hole that is Fenders (Anris?, Fanders?) shipping, and I just had to get this out. Also, I have a slew of unpublished fanfiction that I sit down and write like 5,000 words for, then lose all motivation for because I don't post it. That's why this may be a bit unpolished. I may go back and rewrite some earlier chapters if I get this story underway, so keep that in mind as well, and please tell me if there are any glaringly obvious mistakes. Also, this is my first published work in about 5 years, so please, be gentle. But also, don't hold anything back. Also, I'm not totally following game lore (though I will be trying to stick to it as close as possible)
> 
> Anyway, if you made it this far, thanks for reading, and I promise I'll try to do regular updates, but I am a full-time college student so we shall see where life takes us.
> 
> (Side note: The Hawke/Fenris stuff is really mostly me fantasizing because I couldn't get him on my first run through. It also illustrates how improbable it is that one person could romance such different people. But that's just my thinking)


End file.
